Chapter Text
Jon El landed on the edge of the line where the bright, crisp light of the sun was put through the Stained Glass Window of the Underworld. The fancy name they used for the spell cast in the atmosphere that only let the dim, slow rays of the red wavelength reach the Earth.
Creatures afraid of the light wanted to move freely without the fear of dying as well.
Usually this would be where any sun god with a lick of sense would tread with a bit of caution. For Jon, who has none of that bullshit, courtesy of his mother, this would be where the fun began. Usually.
He quickly reached the estate. A palace, beautiful and grand as it was haunting. The gardens alone so big it would take him more to reach the actual house through them than the distance he already treaded to reach the estate.
They were beautiful though. Or, they would be, under actual sunlight. His eyes could understand the lively greens and vibrant colours of all wavelengths the human eye could separate, but in reality the only thing a human would be able to see is a sea of black and various shades of red.
But still. The bushes were trimmed with care and purpose, the vines manipulated into structures and arches, the trees placed optimally to offer both shade and decoration, beautiful pots and statues scattered here and there to offer some variety. There were even water features and ponds, some of them part of the paths, hence, equipped with stepping stones and bridges, home to water dwelling plants, where, and he could not help but crack a smile at that, water dwelling creatures, frogs of any species you can think of and birds, from as common as ducks to literal paradise birds, were splashing around.
Plants segregated into place of origin from all continents, curated into picture perfect little ecosystems. And, now that he paid a little more attention, he could hear all kinds of critters bustling around, from as big as a tiger to as small as a jumping spider. From as noisy as a peacock to as quiet as a butterfly.
Jon finally reached the front door, double, big enough for a carriage to enter, thick, shiny wood with beautiful floral carvings and golden embellishments, and he knocked. It opened on its own, predictably, but Jon was still surprised by the greeting committee.
“Wow!”
A hellhound. Pure black with glowing red eyes, as hellhounds usually are. This one in particular resembled a grate dane. Except…the dog was about 5 and a half feet tall. Which, obviously, is very big for a dog, but hellhounds are usually twice that size.
The dog looked at him curiously and licked the palm of his hand when he offered it. He chuckled.
“Got the shallow end of the gene pool, huh buddy?”
He looked around the foyer. The whole palace was built out of marble and lacked the gothic architecture most vampire castles were built with. (NOT because vampires were inherently gothic, although most did uphold the aesthetic. It’s just that most Vampires old enough to be rich and established enough to have a castle were from the first Vampire Era, which happened to be around the 14th century) This was older, even though recently renovated.
A beautiful stained glass window of robin birds at a flower field sat over the entrance and other four floor to ceiling ones, two on each side, continuing the flower field on the bottom and bathing the big circular room in light. A crystal chandelier was floating in the middle of the intricate ceiling, over a circular table in the middle of the room with what looked like an authentic ming vase with a giant arrangement of plum blossoms, orchids, peonies and chrysanthemums. At the back of the room, facing him, were another pair of ornate double doors, probably leading to the ballroom, each of them with an arch beside them containing a beautifully painted scenery that continued on the middle panel of the doors and reached the other arch, creating a polyptych. Two giant pillars accented with gold and painted crowns with floral carvings framed every window. The last two were supporting the giant elaborate double staircase and the mezzanine, a big arch leading to the landing connected to the staircases with a golden sculpture of a pair of bird wings crowning it, with other four smaller arches, two on each side, that let whoever is above to peer down into the foyer. Both the stairs, landing and secondary arches of the mezzanine had a golden balustrade built in something reminiscent of art nouveau.
“Poor thing was the runt of the litter. Nobody thought much of him. But he’ll always be the worthiest one to me.”
Jon’s pupils, a slightly darker blue than the bright icy one of his iris and shaped like a diamond, narrowed at the disembodied voice and then even more so as a plume of black smoke appeared on the top of the staircase, followed by a delicate scent of jasmine, honey and fresh fruit.
‘Green.’
That was his first thought when the smoke took the form of a man. Green was the silk cloak with gold embroidery on the trim worn off his shoulders. Green were his boots worn over his slightly baggy dark pants. Green was the silk sash wrapped around his waist. Green were the panels on the sides of his sleeveless black turtleneck, also with gold embroidery. Green were the gems hanging from his golden earrings.
Green were his eyes with the slightly, very slightly, slit pupils.
“Jon El”
The Vampire lord descended from the stairs to meet him with such elegance and grace he looked like he was gliding over the ground. (Some think this is a trait vampires have in general but, again, that’s a tell of the aristocracy and royalty only)
“It’s just Jon, my lord.”
He stopped a foot in front of Jon and smiled. Titus immediately trotted over to greet his master happily and Damian proceeded to give him an affectionate scratch on his chin.
“Then that would be Damian.”
He turned to Jon again. He was tall for human standards. Easily towered over most of them at a little above 6 feet.
But a strong lineage, magic may it be, doesn’t hold a candle to divine blood. Jon had a couple of inches short of a foot on him.
He inclined his head slightly.
“As you wish, my lord”
Damian chuckled.
“I see your reputation really does proceed you. But then again, a sun god who managed to become the world’s most notorious-”
“And successful!”
The vampire lord returned Jon’s smirk, though without the haughtiness.
“And successful monster hunter without a dangerous level of hubris…and as I’ve heard, brutality, but the conscience most share is that this is a choice.”
Jon cocked his head to the side.
“Well…when the occasion demands it.”
Damian’s pupils dilated ever so slightly.
“Meaning?”
Jon’s face hardened.
“I am not a beast, my lord. I do not attack every non-human creature I come across. I, like the rest of us, am a protector. I intervene only when the situation calls for an intervention and I resort to drastic measures when drastic measures are needed. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Damian’s pupils dilated further, but his chin was held high and he seemed more than pleased with Jon’s response.
“Which is precisely the reason I thought it acceptable to invite you inside my own house despite your reputation.”
The hunter smiled at that.
“And I appreciate your hospitality. I have to say, your palace was not exactly what I was expecting.”
Damian turned his attention to Titus again, as the hellhound bumped his head on his shoulder with an unexpected gentleness.
“Not the kind you usually come across, I presume. It was actually built by my grandfather. Later renovated partially by my grandmother. Mostly internally but a part of the gardens as well. I actually just finished with some renovations of my own”
“Your estate is truly beautiful, my lord. The sight alone could calm the soul.”
“That’s high praise to hear from someone divine. Thank you.”
The young god inclined his head again.
“But, now, I doubt you chose to invite me on a whim.”
The green eyed man gave Titus one last pat before letting him return to his lounge spot.
“Of course not! But it is not so urgent that we have to discuss it right in front of my front door.”
The vampire lord snapped his fingers and a little thrall appeared, offering to take Jon’s cape. (And no, thralls, well this kind of thrall, aren’t a vampire’s slaves. Those are people the vampire bit and partially turned. These thralls are a different type of creature. They typically nest in manors, mansions or palaces. And, of course, the creatures that usually own these types of buildings and are willing to have these things running around in them are powerful vampires, see the talk about why vampires have castles. This service is their own version of paying rent.)
“Come inside. Let us talk about this over dinner, shall we?”
His voice was soft and silky, the invite demure yet revealing excitement.
Vampire hospitality. Usually not to be trusted.
Jon gave the thrall his cape, who disappeared again, and followed his host as Damian’s short, gold wrapped heels clacked on the polished marble, up the stairs and through the halls, all decorated with paintings, murals and more plants, in expensive pots, hanging from the ceiling or wrapped around columns.
They finally reached a private little dining room, obviously intended for more private occasions than a banquet or formal dinner. Basically more of a large circular nook, a semicircle couch embedded on the wall with an oval table in front of a floor to ceiling window overlooking a large pond in the garden.
Due to how the couch was shaped, they were able to sit on opposite sides of the table by taking a seat at the ends of it. It was extremely plush, wrapped in deep green silk and with a golden metal border at the bottom. Large enough that Jon, despite his size, could comfortably lounge on his corner and throw his arms over the back of it without creating an awkward angle between him and the table. On the other side Damian was also lounged back, although he was sitting with way more grace, legs crossed and hands on his lap.
The room was, just like the rest of the palace, decorated with plants and, since the sun had gone down, lit up with the soft light of a big crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the dome ceiling. For a human it would be way too dark to see outside, but Jon had no problem making out both the large pond and the colourful fish swimming in it under the moonlight.
The scene was truly quite beautiful.
“Op!”
Suddenly there was a warm spot on Jon's lap. Upon looking down he realised it was a little tuxedo cat, probably further in the couch previously, that had decided his lap was the now new most comfortable place to take a nap.
“Alfred!”
Jon laughed, then scratched the cat's chin as it purred happily, completely indifferent to his master's apparent embarrassment.
“You named this little baby Alfred ?”
Damian pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yes it is…a family name. I'm so sorry, he's a familiar someone denounced and kicked out. I took him in and apparently he decided he deserved anything and everything after what he went through. He's quite spoiled.”
A smile bloomed on the hunter’s face as he petted the back of the now sleeping kitten that had loafed on his lap.
“You have a thing for little neglected souls huh?”
Damian relented and looked over at Alfred fondly.
“I suppose I do.”
Jon looked outside, at the pond.
“A great love for living things in general.”
The vampire lord's face hardened. He followed Jon's gaze, glaring at the pond.
“Yes. And it is not an easy task. Life desires the Sun, at the large majority. Directly or indirectly. I managed to preserve those gardens, mostly, but sometimes spells and potions simply aren't enough. This pond was filled with lotus flowers when I was a child. Despite my best efforts I just couldn't save them.”
Jon nodded.
“So you weren't always a vampire and neither was your maternal family, though they were involved with magic.”
The green eyed man smirked.
“I suppose centuries of this kind of work would leave habits. I respect the mastery at least.”
Jon shrugged.
“Old habits and all that stuff.”
The doors opened and the thralls came in, carrying plates of food, covering the entire table, although very obviously keeping the meat options away from Damian's side of the table.
But there was food on Damian's side of the table and, like Jon, an ornate porcelain plate and gold silverware was placed in front of him.
Jon raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you were a full vampire”
“I am.”
He lazily raised a crystal wine glass shaped like a flower with a golden stem and two other thralls appeared carrying bottles, the one carrying a simple glass amphora with a dark red liquid inside pouring some in it, filling the air with the deep smell of fat and iron. The other, carrying a way more complex bottle, a diamond shaped crystal vial encased in a cage of black metal composed of geometric shapes, as if the vessel itself was not to be touched came beside Jon and poured the glowing pure white liquid into his glass.
“I’m truly sorry if this isn’t to your tastes. The kind of drinks that would have any effect on the likes you are quite hard to come by in the mortal world. This is the only thing I could secure.”
Jon took a sip. Not his first choice when he’s seeking a high, but far from the last. It would do just fine. Besides.
“You tell me. I think most of my time traveling is spent trying to find something to get the edge off.”
Damian’s face darkened just a smidge. Not enough for mortal eyes to pick up. Jon’s eyes however.
“You can keep the bottle, if you wish.”
He swirled the deep red liquid in his glass.
“I have also managed to secure a reliable source.”
He took a sip and delicately cleaned his lips with a small sweep of his tongue across his lips.
“Shall you ever find yourself in a position where you cannot find anything.”
Jon just nodded, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.
“Thank you.”
He took another sip from the liquid light.
“But now. I think it’s high time we got to business.”
The vampire lord chuckled.
“Impatient. Okay. What would you like to start with?”
“Well, Damian, before anything I would really like to know what I’m working with here.”
“Of course.”
He took another sip.
“Tell me, Jon. Have you heard of Ra’s Al Ghul.”
The hunter cocked his head to the side, intrigued.
“I have. Another man who thought he’d be the one to defeat death. Tale as old as time. It went as well as anyone could have expected, even though, to be completely honest, he did better than most, somehow. One thousand years is not bad at all, for a mortal.”
Damian tried and failed to hold in a smirk.
“Yes. Quite on point. My grandfather used his knowledge of magic and alchemy to work with what he believed to be the fountain of youth. Now it is known as the Lazarus pit.”
“Can regenerate mortals but can also kill them if not used correctly.”
The green eyed man nodded.
“Very well. Now, as I mentioned, my grandfather had a daughter, my mother. My mother then fell in love with one of my grandfather’s adversaries. You have heard of Bruce Wayne, surely.”
Jon chuckled.
“The Batman. Of course.”
The Waynes were not vampires themselves. They were human descendants of the once powerful vampire lineage in control of Gotham city. The last remaining member, however, had inherited a lot of vampire traits, in small ways. Intolerance to bright lights, pointed teeth and an unnaturally long lifespan, now spending his old age brooding and lurking around in his manor. Jon knew he had adopted children, human children and a mage, son of a sun spirit, as mortal as the rest, that have all now passed, most of old age. But he had never heard about a blood son.
Damian snorted at his father’s ridiculous alias.
“Well, then you know how he can be…not the easiest person to be around.”
Damian’s lips were pressed into a line and when Jon talked he had a smile on his face that put his own fangs and sharp teeth that made Damian’s fangs look quite dainty in comparison.
Of course, Damian’s fangs were only meant to inflict a wound just big enough to suck blood out of. Jon’s were made to slash and rip flesh apart.
“You could definitely say that.”
Damian took a bite of his food,a tiny piece that immediately disappeared into his mouth, to hide his smile and to distract from the way his face darkened further.
It didn’t really work.
“Well, my parents did not stay together for long. Bruce Wayne returned to his precious city after my mother had enough of his antics and faked a miscarriage.
Jon spat out part of his next sip and immediately dabbed the drops away with a towel that immediately dissolved the moment it came into contact with the drink.
“Ahem…excuse me.”
Damian brushed him off and called his thralls to bring Jon another towel.
“If I wasn’t capable of hosting you, I would not have called you here. Now, as I was saying, my mother planned to raise me here, on her own…but my grandfather…well, you know what unnatural extension of life does to mortals.”
“Mhm”
“It turns out even the Lazarous pit has its limits. It just couldn’t heal or regenerate his body anymore…so he had to find a new one.”
Jon’s eyes were steel. It was not an unusual practice among the people he hunted, stealing the life of the young to keep themselves somewhat tethered to the land of the living. Kids. It really was mostly kids.
“My mother, obviously, was having none of that. When she found out Ra’s was getting ready for the swap, she shipped me to live with my father. I was around 10 years old.”
Damian’s mouth was pressed into a line again, he pressed his eyes closed and gripped the stem of his glass harder.
“You know my father has lost kids young.”
Yes. Officially one, his second adopted son, unofficially two, also a young girl who found herself somehow under his wing. Although, there were some rumours of a ghost haunting the streets of Gotham for some time after the kid’s passing. No matter now, as it seemed to have gotten its closure, whatever that may have been.
“Yes.”
“Well, I was one of them as well.”
Jon’s eyes widened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“It was barely a year into his care. 4 years after he lost his second son. Apparently he learned nothing.”
Jon's eyebrows shot up.
Vampires are walking corpses. They do not age past the age they were turned in, usually. Damian, chronologically, would seem to be a year older than him and he looked around his age physically as well. (Well, Jon was WAY older than the young man he looked like, of course, centuries older, and so was Damian, but what he meant was Damian seemed to be turned around when he, like Jon, was actually around his 20s)
He was confused and intrigued. But the time for questions would come later.
Damian’s eyes were turned firmly at the floor, but he was staring into nothing.
“My grandfather had finally passed in my absence. So, my mother thought she could get me back. She dipped me into the Lazarus pit. ”
Jon pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew now where this was going.
“Jon? I know this will sound incredibly patronising to you, but. Do you know what being a vampire is?”
A curse. A punishment to the hubris of trying to reach immortality.
The first Vampire was a woman who thought she had found a way to live forever. Instead she ended up more dead than one could possibly be while damned to continue to exist among the living. The flight, the smoke, the transformation, the lack of reflection, a lack of weight, a lack of being, a lack of form, a lack of proof of existence. Unable to exist under the life of the sun. Unable to feel anything at all, unless it is the pain of silver or a wooden stake through the heart, taste food or drink, if only for pleasure, since the only source of sustenance would come from being a parasite to the living.
There is a misconception however. In order to become a vampire from a bite there needs to be either a disregard for the cycle of life, or will, as these powers to some are worth the curse. Or so they think.
“Yes.”
“Well. Bringing people back from the dead counts as a disregard for the cycle of life and death. Though, vampire heritage is not as effective as a vampire bite. So, things for me turned out a little different.”
He knows the feeling.
“Different how?”
“Firstly, as you've noticed, I do not match the age I died in. I suppose this was part of the deal. The Lazarus Pit was asked to revive me and it did that until I was around what's considered, in those lovely curse clauses, “wedding age”, thus mature enough to pay for my hubris. I cannot transform, though I do have a reflection. I can feel pain and cold and discomfort, because I can feel everything. Including food, as you jut saw. And I cannot fly.”
“A shame. My dad always said it is the best power to have. And I agree, in a way.”
Damian raised an eyebrow, amused, as he waited for the hunter to realise.
Jon’s eyes widened.
“You are missing a blessing!”
Magic had rules. The most important one was balance. For every curse a blessing. For every blessing a curse.
“I do! And it is precisely why you are here.”
Jon raised an eyebrow, sceptical.
“How so?”
Damian stared into his eyes, a solemn expression on his face.”
“I miss the sun, Jon.”
The vampire lord’s voice was small, vulnerable in a way Jon wasn’t expecting.
“I have done some research. Drinking from you after we secure a contract-”
“Will kill you.”
The green eyes across him widened and the hope in them flickered dangerously.
“I am still a creature of the sun. Securing a contract with me will still count as contact from your part. We need to be more careful.”
Jon couldn’t ignore how Damian seemed to glow all of a sudden.
“What do you propose?”
“You need to drink some of my blood before securing the contract. I will try and find a way to make it possible, but it will probably take some time.”
“Well, luckily it would seem we both have nothing but that. Is everything else accurate or do you have more things to add?”
“If the myth you are referring to says that once the contract is sealed you will have to drink from me once a year to be immune to sunlight, then yes. I will warn you though, apart from immunity my blood will not offer you anything else.”
“That will not be an issue, I do not think the cows have any intent to retract their generosity.”
The hunter blinked.
“The…cows?”
Damian looked away with a scowl as red dusted his cheeks, visible even through his dark complexion.
“I have a herd of around 100 that I derive sustenance from! Obviously! Where do you think I get the blood from?”
In Jon’s experience, from the town butcher. But he really should have known. It really was on brand for Damian to source blood as humanely as possible.
He couldn’t deny it was…endearing.
“Yes, of course. Now, back on track. In order for this to work you will need to take my blood right before the contract is sealed, and the contract itself needs to be as ironclad as possible.”
Damian’s face might as well have erupted in flames.
Jon seemed equally as flustered, though he tried to ignore it, clearing his throat before continuing.
“Which, as we both know, would be a traditional vampire wedding.”
“Correct.”
Jon raised both eyebrows, as Damian sat up straighter, doing his best to look confident and composed.
“Jon El, do not think of me as naive simply because I was unaware of a clause in a, until now, hypothetical ritual. I studied the part of it I had obsessively. I did not call you here unprepared. I was fully aware a contract through marriage was on the table. And I have my end of the deal ready, as it would have also been if you simply desired recompense for offering me your assistance. In exchange I will offer you any and all magical aid and protection you will need.”
Jon took a sip of his drink, contemplating.
The price of divinity was the lack of any and all affinity to magic. Jon could know magic, but could never practice it and, as such, he had to resort to alternative counters to it or outside help. Damian was quite obviously an extremely talented mage. And as such potentially an invaluable ally.
Besides. He was not unattractive.
His eyes swept over the vampire in a fluid motion. From his delicate features and high cheekbones to the little bump on his nose, to his soft looking plump lips. How his top, a fitted black sleeveless turtleneck with green, gold-embroidered panels that went from the neck down to his sides and a diamond shaped opening in the chest, from the top of which hung a freen gem, hugged his figure, strong and fit and well muscled but not overly bulky. The way he carried himself, with confidence and power and pride and elegance. His smell, light and refreshing even to his oversensitive senses, his voice smooth and commanding, made even more charming by his accent, his eyes glowing in the dark like big precious emeralds.
His gentleness, his kindness, his love of everything alive…
Ah. The glasses refiled on their own. That explains it. He must be near the end of his second bottle now. Thoughts running a bit wild.
He should get a grip.
He decided to ignore the vampire lord’s blush at being…stared at…like that and he in turn was kind enough to let it slide.
“Well, then. I suppose you would also have the appropriate place and regalia for the ceremony ready?”
Damian cleared his throat.
“Nearly. I have indeed secured a spot and most of the instruments, potions and herbs. However, we still need the appropriate jewelry."
He snapped his fingers and another thrall appeared, this time carrying a velvet case.
“The ceremony requires the exchange of a headpiece and a necklace for the bride and a ring for the groom, preferably heirlooms of the vampire lineage or lineages present. I have the ring, from my father's family’s collection. He’s not gonna need it, anyway.”
He pulled out a black ring with a bright red gem from the case.
“It will probably need resizing, but I can arrange that.”
As he was talking a thrall appeared, took Jon’s finger size and disappeared again immediately.
“Now, you will need to supply the headpiece and necklace yourself, obviously…but I would like to ask for a favour.”
The thrall holding the case made their way towards Jon and handed it to him before disappearing and Jon marveled at the emeralds it held.
But they were not set into jewellery.
“These were supposed to be used for my mother’s wedding set, but well, you are aware of the story. I would like them to be used for mine, if it’s not an issue for you.”
Jon carefully closed the case and inclined his head slightly.
“Of course.”
The vampire lord nodded.
“Good. Everything in order, then?”
It was Jon’s turn to compose himself.
“Just one thing?”
Damian leaned forward, offering him his attention.
“You have heard, undoubtedly, that I’m the unlikely product of my father’s union with a human.”
“Yes.”
“Well, that is not exactly accurate. My grandmother from my mother’s side was a part of the Winter Court.”
The pupils in the green eyes dilated.
“You have Fey blood.”
“I do. And it’s quite useful. But also dangerous, obviously. So, I warn you, my lord, do not offer me something I want to keep.”
Damian nodded.
“Understood.”
The hunter gave his own nod and got up from the table.
“You are not leaving yet, are you?”
Blue eyes revealed surprise.
“It was a long way to get here. And it is already way past sunset.”
He turned to look out the window. Had he really spent the entire day with him?
“How about a nice bath? Then a good night’s sleep? You can leave in the morning.”
The vampire lord had walked over to him, and now was staring up at him through thick, long eyelashes.
He should really refuse.
He let Damian lead him to his room.